Second Chance
by PhantomProducer
Summary: Before Sherlock Holmes can reopen the Blackwood Case, Mary needs to speak with him. What is there left to say? A Sherlock/Mary semi-friendship oneshot.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own "Sherlock Holmes" or any of its characters. That all belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Guy Ritchie, etc.

**Author's note: **I've just watched this movie for the first time on Monday, and again last night. I absolutely love it, and I have a couple pieces in mind for fan fiction, one being this (the other I won't tackle until I'm finished with my Indiana Jones story). This is about Sherlock and Mary, talking things out seconds after the film ends. Please enjoy, and review if you feel so inclined. Thanks!

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"Case reopened," the detective muttered, ready to go out into the field immediately. Sending Clarke ahead, Sherlock Holmes affixed a bowler hat on his head and turned to the door. He wasn't planning on Mary blocking the doorway.

"Mr. Holmes, I need to speak with you…privately," she murmured, wringing her hands almost nervously.

"Perhaps another time, Miss Morstan. I am needed elsewhere," Sherlock responded, gathering up his coat. He had given Watson that giant diamond to propose to Mary with; wasn't that enough for her? Why did she want to interrupt him on his way out the door?

"Please, Sherlock. It's important," she said, invoking his christian name. Sighing, he set down his jacket after a long moment and turned to her.

"Very well. What do you wish to discuss?"

She paused, biting her lip in hesitation. Mary began to fuss with her blue dress, trying to remember her planned speech. Holmes tried to suppress a frown at her deliberate movements. She was preparing to tell him something that gravely concerned her, he could see that plain as day. The only sound for a few moments was Watson shouting for someone to catch the dog before it got out downstairs. Evidently he had engaged Clarke in the hunt for Gladstone, and the two tramped heavily. When Mary finally screwed up the courage, her voice was a mere whisper.

"Firstly, I want to apologize for my actions when we first were introduced. Although it wasn't entirely undeserved, I could've controlled myself more instead of throwing wine in your face. Please forgive me."

A little taken aback, Holmes simply nodded. "I've had a lot worse thrown into my face, miss."

"Be that as it may, it still was unnecessary. And as for the real reason I wanted to talk to you-"

"Ah, I've been wondering about that myself."

He smirked for a moment, but the sincerity of her coming words knocked it clean off his lips.

"I know how much you care for my fiancé, and how much he cares for you. I can see you two are practically brothers, especially since he willingly follows you into danger and you are so willing to protect him from…outside forces."

Mary gave him a small grin; she was not the fool the detective once thought her to be.

"I never intended to come between you and John. All I did was fall in love with him. He's a good man, kind, caring…and a man of action, which I confess is a weakness of mine, loving men like that. The first time he told me of your shared adventures, I was deeply impressed by him, and in a small way by you. I was so overjoyed to meet you, and anxious, too. I was afraid of the possible animosity that could come from a brother who thought his sibling was being ripped away. Something which I was showed was a legitimate fear."

Holmes visibly winced, but otherwise kept his emotions in check.

Swallowing, he confessed, "I must say, it was all irrational action, which at the time appeared rational."

Mary chuckled and cracked another smile. "Of course. Incorrigible men often think that way of their intentions. You appeared to be utterly heartless and hostile towards me…but I know now that you aren't fully incapable of feeling."

They both started thinking of that brief period in the hospital when Holmes went to check on Watson's wounds himself, and Mary stood close by, watching him pull out slivers and shrapnel before the surgeon came. She had seen through his disguise, had seen inside of him for a brief moment.

"Which is why I've asked John to continue working with you. His practice will only take up so much of his time, and in truth he does so enjoy helping your cases. What did he tell me? He has a-"

"Obsession with the macabre," Holmes answered smartly. "The poor man, so ruled by his vice."

"Yes," Mary breathed, taking a few steps forward. Once she was close enough, she extended her hand. "All I ask in return is that when it's my time with him, it's _my_ time, sir. A wife, or at least a future one, surely deserves that much. I also wish for us to start over, give each other more of a chance. With circumstances being what they are, we cannot bicker and hate one another forever. Can you agree to this, Mister Holmes?"

Sherlock stared at her, never thinking that this proposition would come his way. Mary had proven to be more than the viperous wretch who was stealing his friend; in fact, this gesture showed what a good match she was for Watson. What a kind-hearted soul she had; he now wished it hadn't taken him so long to realize it. Perhaps it was time to get on with her, instead of fighting tooth and nail over a lost battle.

Besides, she seemed almost a likeable woman now. He gripped her gloved fingers and gave her a hearty handshake.

"Certainly, my future Missus Watson. And now if you'll excuse me," he remarked, tipping the hat on his head, "I have a case that requires my time and immediate attention."

Stepping to the side, she let the famed detective slip by and clatter down the stairs. Smiling broadly, she straightened her dress and descended as well, only to find her love and his best friend tangled up on the floor, Gladstone resting comfortably on top of them. John flashed an embarrassed look at her, while Mary erupted in sudden laughter and shook her head at the two partners.

"Yes, this case seems all-consuming, my good man. Do try to bring my fiancé back in one piece," she giggled, stepping over them and waving at Holmes before striding out the door.

"Oh I shall, madam, I promise," he grunted back, shoving the dog off onto the good doctor before waving back to her. It was easier to be humane to her than he thought it could be.

Once the door shut behind her, Watson shot Sherlock a confused stare. "Are you two actually being amiable now?"

Holmes leaned back on his elbows, shrugging slightly. "Perhaps."

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**Last note:** Mary doesn't get much love from anyone. She's seen as an awful person because she fell in love with Watson and wanted to be with him. Sherlock was kind of a prat about the whole thing, but he seemed on his way to accepting the relationship at the end of the movie. All I could think was that maybe the two could've at least reached an understanding of each other before the end. Anyway, thanks for reading!


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